


i had a thought, dear

by yeswayappianway



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, M/M, Urban Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-15
Updated: 2018-10-15
Packaged: 2019-07-18 21:28:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16127102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeswayappianway/pseuds/yeswayappianway
Summary: Looking into the locker room, Braden’s shoulders relax and he can feel himself smiling. It’s good to be back, to hear the mess of locker room banter and see the familiar logos and warding symbols on the walls. Philipp pushes past him gently, and Braden gets a weird feeling that he’s forgotten something. He shakes his head, but checks his phone anyway to see if he’s missing an appointment or—maybe he left the refrigerator open at home? He decides it’s not important.





	i had a thought, dear

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aleksrothis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aleksrothis/gifts).



> title from Like Real People Do, by Hozier
> 
> hi! i really loved a lot of your prompts, and i tried to incorporate some of them into this. i hope you like it!!
> 
> i still haven't figured out how i want to tag for 'au where everyone still plays hockey but there's also magic' so i'm trying out the urban fantasy tag this time
> 
> thank you to dell and to coco for beta reading this!

“You’re good at that,” Braden finds himself saying. Philipp looks up, his hands not moving over the perfectly laid out pentagram. He smiles slightly, and goes back to his casting. Braden stands in the doorway of the little room at Kettler, entranced by Philipp’s steady lines and soft words and the flickering of a candle. There’s a slight popping noise as the flame flares, and it startles Braden out of his trance. He considers saying something else, but he doesn’t know what else to say. Taking one last look at Philipp’s concentration, he leaves.

It’s 2018, the Washington Capitals are Stanley Cup champions, and Braden still can’t manage to tell Philipp that he’s at least a little bit in love with him.

\-----

“Holts!” Andre yells, wrapping an arm around his neck. Braden shakes his head, but lets Andre keep clinging.

“I saw you yesterday,” he points out.

Andre just shrugs. “So?”

Looking into the locker room, Braden’s shoulders relax and he can feel himself smiling. It’s good to be back, to hear the mess of locker room banter and see the familiar logos and warding symbols on the walls. Andre is talking about something he did this summer, and Braden isn’t listening at all, but just having him there is comfortable and reassuring.

Philipp pushes past them gently, going to his stall and starting to deal with his gear, and Braden gets a weird feeling that he’s forgotten something. He shakes his head, but checks his phone anyway to see if he’s missing an appointment or—maybe he left the refrigerator open at home? He decides it’s not important, and finally shakes Andre off to go tend to his own equipment.

\-----

Being out on the ice with the guys is even better. Ovi is in fine form, alternately heckling everyone from across the ice and showering everyone in compliments, and it doesn’t take long for that mood to spread to the rest of the team. Tom is affectionately running everyone over, which makes Braden glad that he’d long ago intimidated Tom into leaving him alone. He takes enough collisions during games, he doesn’t need them now, no matter how well meant. Looking over the ice, Braden sighs and lets himself feel sad for a moment. It’s hard to keep a team together in the NHL, and it’s honestly pretty remarkable that they’d made it this long, but he misses Carly and Beags. Sure, Braden has their phone numbers, and he’d kept up with them pretty well during the summer, but it’s not the same.

“What are you thinking about?” Backy asks, suddenly next to him, and Braden realizes that he doesn’t know how long he’s been staring out over the ice.

“Not much,” Braden says. “Just how things change, I guess.”

Backy waves his hand, dismissive. “The season hasn’t even started, you aren’t allowed to be philosophical yet.” He’s still looking at Braden though, and it feels a little uncomfortable. He knows intellectually that Backy’s truesight doesn’t let him see anything about how people are feeling, but it still feels like he can read thoughts sometimes. Then again, maybe that’s just how he is.

Braden is ready to move on and start talking hockey when Backy frowns and says, “I am disappointed though. We won the cup, and even that wasn’t enough for you to make a move on Grubi?” He’s still frowning when Braden’s head snaps towards him, but his eyes are sparkling with mischief.

“Fuck you,” Braden grumbles in a near-whisper. “And don’t say that here.” Backy actually laughs at him.

“Literally everyone knows, Holts. Well, everyone except Grubi, because then I wouldn’t be having to say this.”

Glaring, Braden shoots back, “Oh, and I’m supposed to take relationship advice from you?”

“Who said anything about a relationship?” says Backy, raising one eyebrow. “ _I_ was talking about victory sex.” And with that, he skates off, leaving Braden to try and ignore his frustration and embarrassment by playing hockey.

It mostly works.

\-----

Braden’s had _a thing_ for Philipp for a long time, is the thing. And despite his protests to Backy, he did think they might have actually gone somewhere last season. Braden’s always tried to help Philipp get better as a goalie, help him deal with the realities of being in the NHL, and he’s pretty happy that Philipp seems to appreciate those efforts. Last season, as much as Braden had been frustrated and on edge and playing like it, watching Philipp play well enough to make everyone take notice had been one of the better things to come out of it. Braden knows enough to realize that it doesn’t spell good things for him in the future ( _Seattle expansion draft_ rattles around in his mind every time he catches a glimpse of Fleury on TV), but for now, he loves that he gets to watch Philipp come into his own.

There had been times last season when the two of them would spend time together, not even ostensibly for hockey reasons, just because they’d become friends over the years, and Braden’s usually well-repressed crush had bubbled up. Philipp was soft-spoken but willing to talk for ages about topics he enjoyed, quick to laugh, and not exactly hard to look at. They’d been sitting together on plane rides, and going out to eat when no one else was willing to make the effort. Braden had gotten Philipp talking about growing up in a witching family, heard the wild stories about Philipp’s aunts and uncles and their magical pranks on each other, and even convinced Philipp to show him a few minor tricks. As the season sped into the playoffs they’d taken less time with each other, but Braden had convinced himself that they were just busy and exhausted and focusing on hockey. Two times during the first two rounds, they’d managed to have time to get dinner together, and if Braden didn’t know better, he’d have thought they were dates. He had nearly gathered his courage to ask if they could go on a real date, one where they both knew what was going on and maybe they could go somewhere more special, when Philipp started avoiding him. It had been easy to accept, because as it turns out, playing for the Stanley Cup was a great distractor. And then they’d all spent way more time publically drunk than Braden was really comfortable with. And then they all went home.

There’d been talk of Philipp getting moved to another team, traded for purely business reasons, but also maybe letting him go somewhere he could be the starter, and it had made Braden’s heart ache. But here they were, the start of the next season, and despite some of the other people missing, Philipp was still here.

It settled something inside Braden to see him, and the thought of finally telling Philipp seemed to take root in the back of his head. Maybe now he could get up the courage.

\-----

“So, there’s a new restaurant I want to try. Want to go with me?” Braden asks Philipp a few days later after practice. It’s stupid, they’ve done this before, Braden goes out for dinner with other guys from the team, and it’s totally normal, so why is he so nervous?

Either Philipp doesn’t notice his nerves, or he kindly ignores them, because he nods, and says, “Yeah, sounds great,” and maybe he sounds a little hesitant, but Braden chooses to ignore it. This is it. This is his chance. _Don’t fuck this up_ , he orders himself.

\-----

Dinner is good. There really is a new restaurant Braden had been hoping to try, a Korean barbecue place that he’d seen a sign for one day while driving by, and it turns out to be a great choice. Philipp doesn’t say much, but it’s probably because he’s too busy eating delicious food, since he cleans his plate and sits back with his eyes closed, seemingly taking a moment of satisfaction.

“Thanks, Holts,” he says, smiling across the table. Braden’s heart speeds up slightly.

“Sure, any time,” Braden says, and takes a deep breath. “Do you… would you… Um.” Braden’s never claimed to be a well-spoken guy, even if his teammates have claimed it for him. Philipp tilts his head slightly.

“What’s up?” he asks.

Braden takes another deep breath. “So, it was really nice last season getting food, and spending time together. And I was wondering… if you would want to… maybe do a little more of that? I just really like being around you, and I figured, now that you’re still here, and things have changed, but that hasn’t, and you know, I thought...” Philipp still has a pleasant expression, but Braden recognizes it as the face he makes when a reporter asks him a question he didn’t like. It’s not a great sign, but Braden knows this is his one chance, even if he’s already fucked it up. He goes for broke. “Do you want to go on a date with me?”

Well.

There it is.

Philipp doesn’t answer right away, and Braden’s stomach starts turning. It feels like the food he just ate is curdling inside him somehow. The moment stretches out, impossibly long, but it feels to Braden like no time has passed at all. He tried to make the stop, and the whistle blew, the only question is if the puck went in behind him.

“I—” and it’s only now that Braden realizes that Philipp looks just as bad as Braden feels. His face is pale and his hand shakes as he pushes his chair back from the table. “I need to go, I’m sorry, thank you for dinner.”

Braden can only watch in growing horror as Philipp leaves. He doesn’t say another word, and Braden watches his phone on the way home, that evening getting ready for bed, but no messages from Philipp ever come through.

It’s a long night.

\-----

Braden is awoken the next morning by his phone ringing. He answers it without opening his eyes.

“Hello?” he says gruffly.

“Um…” Braden is instantly awake. It’s Philipp, and he says, “Can I talk to you? I think I’ve made a mistake.”

Braden almost laughs. It’s not particularly funny, but he’s learned a lot of things through his years playing in DC. Laughing through shit is one of them. “If you say so. Sure, we can talk.”

There’s a pause as Braden waits for Philipp to start talking. Braden hears Philipp inhale sharply. “I’m… I’m outside. Can you let me in?”

That’s unexpected. Braden takes a second to shake his head, make sure he’s not dreaming, and then says, “Yeah, just give me a minute.” He throws on clothes quickly, and makes his way to his front door. Sure enough, there’s Philipp outside. When he opens it, Philipp looks up quickly and Braden is shocked at how he flinches away from making eye contact.

Inside, Braden has a little better chance to look at him, and Philipp looks incredibly unhappy. He’s hunched into himself, and his face is still a little pale, and he still won’t look Braden in the eye.

They make their way in silence into the living room and Philipp perches on the armchair. “I… you have to understand, I don’t want… I like what happened, I don’t... “ He trails off, and it’s Braden’s turn to be confused.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Grubi, you need to explain this to me. Is this about what I asked you yesterday at dinner? I’m sorry if that made you uncomfortable, I didn’t mean to, but that doesn’t make it better.” Braden doesn’t know what else to say, because Philipp is shaking his head swiftly, but he still won’t look at him.

There’s another lull as Philipp fiddles with something in his hoodie pocket. Then he looks up, and says, “I did something. With magic. Over the summer. I don’t… I don’t regret it, but I think it might have been a mistake.”

Braden doesn’t know how to respond. “What kind of magic?”

Philipp curls in a little more on himself. “I… I wished that I could stay on the team. And it came true.”

There’s entirely too much to process in that, so Braden doesn’t. “So? What’s the big deal?”

Finally, _finally_ , Philipp looks at him directly, and Braden realizes that he’s on the verge of crying. “So? The big deal is that I don’t know if I can hold it. The ritual doesn’t— it’s not meant to be a permanent change. It’s meant for small things, single actions that it flips around. I made a whole new timeline. Carly should still be on the team, did you know that? Because I do.” Braden’s sure his mouth is hanging wide open, but Philipp keeps going, urgently. “I know it because I was traded to the Avalanche, and he re-signed, and I wished that away but I think— I’m afraid it’s going to come true again. I can feel the threads of the spell, and they’re fraying. I don’t think they’ll even hold until Christmas.” There are tears leaking out of Philipp’s eyes now, but Braden doesn’t think he’s realized yet. “And you were talking about how great it was that I was still here, and I just… I wanted to stay for the team, but I also wanted to stay for you. And if I get to have you, and then I have to go back to that other timeline, across the country, away from the team, and from you, and I actually know what I’m missing? I don’t know if I can handle that.”

Braden thought he didn’t know what to say before, but now, he truly is at a loss for words. “I— Philipp, you— We can fix it, right? You can fix it, you’re great at magic. Get Orly and Andre to help you, and redo the spell, stronger.” Philipp’s already shaking his head as Braden speaks.

“It doesn’t work like that. The more times I try to fix it, the more I’m going to stretch the magic. I know that probably doesn’t make sense, but I don’t know how else to explain it.”

“What can I do?” Braden asks, hopelessly.

Philipp just smiles, his eyes still red and his hands shaking again. “Nothing. I just— I needed to tell someone, and I needed you to know why I ran out last night, it wasn’t you, I promise.”

“What are you going to do?” Braden says, and he can hear himself parrotting his own words over and over.

“Stop holding on to the spell. I should have known when I cast it, there was no way this could last. It was a nice few months, though,” he says, eyes downcast again. Braden wants to argue, or to say that they can find a way to change it, or that it doesn’t matter, or something, but Philipp stands up before he can find the words. “Thank you for dinner.”

Braden can stop a puck firing at him at nearly 100 miles per hour, but he’s powerless to stop Philipp from walking out of his apartment. He sits on his couch, shell-shocked, as the door closes.

\-----

The next thing Braden knows, he’s waking up on the couch, uncomfortable and sore. When he blearily opens his eyes, it looks like it might be the middle of the day. He doesn’t remember falling asleep but he does remember—

Philipp.

Braden grabs for his phone, which had seemingly fallen onto the floor, and frantically googles Philipp’s name. Sure enough, there he is— Philipp Grubauer, Wikipedia tells him, is a German professional ice hockey goaltender currently playing for the Colorado Avalanche.

Fuck.

\-----

There’s no practice that day, so Braden can pretend for a little while longer. He’s going to have to find a reason to avoid Carly for a few days. Braden spends a while moping around his apartment, telling himself that he’s trying to wake up from his unexpected, possibly magical, nap. It’s not very convincing.

After he’s finally managed to eat lunch and put on real clothes, he finds himself staring at the window. If he didn’t know that Philipp being on the Caps still wasn’t always true, why does he know now that everything is back to the way it was? What about the rest of the team? Does anyone else know?

The only way to find out is to ask someone, and Braden’s whole team is a bunch of gossips. He decides if everyone’s going to be talking about him anyway, might as well get it over with quickly.

_To: Ovi_

_hey this is gonna sound stupid please just answer the question_

_To: Ovi_

_was grubi on the team yesterday??_

There’s no response for several minutes, and Braden flings his phone across the couch. He almost immediately picks it back up, and a few seconds later, it lights up with a response.

_From: Ovi_

_no ?????????? why u ask_

_From: Ovi_

_you OK???????_

Braden doesn’t bother answering. Instead, he calls Philipp.

“Holts?” Philipp sounds shocked.

“Why do I remember you being here this morning?” Braden asks, urgently. It doesn’t make any sense.

“You do?” and Philipp sounds as surprised as Braden. “I have no idea, you shouldn’t. It didn’t work that way in the first place.”

“I know! But I do, we got dinner yesterday, I asked you out, you left, and then this morning you showed up to tell me you had magicked yourself out of a trade, and then I woke up from a nap I don’t remember taking and you’re in Colorado!” Somehow, this is more unsettling than Philipp being gone, or the revelation that he cast a spell to reverse being traded. Braden doesn’t have magic. He has no talent, no magical heritage, no aptitude for it, so he’s not used to magic affecting him like this.

“Oh,” Philipp breathes, and it sounds like he’s had a great realization.

“What is it? Do you know why it’s happening?”

“No,” says Philipp. “I have no idea. Maybe because you knew while the spell was happening, it kept that knowledge, or maybe because you were the reason I undid it? But— but that was real. You asked me on a date, and you still remember, not because it was something I wished for.”

Braden opens his mouth to speak, but finds that he can’t make words come out just yet. He tries again. “Did you… did you really think that? Philipp, I’ve been in love with you for years,” Braden huffs, and doesn’t realize what he’s said until he hears Philipp breathe in sharply. “Oh. You would have found out eventually anyway, I think, Nicky’s been saying it was getting desperate.”

On the other end of the line, Philipp laughs, and it’s an amazing thing to hear. “I didn’t really think that, but I didn’t know, yesterday was a stressful day for me.”

In relief, Braden starts laughing as well. “Just for you? I finally asked out the guy I’ve been wanting to ask on a date for years, and he ran out on me!” It’s meant as a joke, but Philipp stops laughing.

“Braden, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. It was rude, and—” Braden interrupts him.

“I don’t care, just make it up to me somehow.”

“Yeah,” and Braden can hear how much lighter Philipp’s voice sounds now. “I can do that.”

\-----

The Caps play the Avs for the first time this season in November, and when Braden leaves the morning skate, he’s greeted by a familiar figure. Philipp waves at him from outside the practice rink.

“Hi,” Philipp says when Braden reaches him. There’s a strange moment of tension as they both lean slightly towards each other and then stop. Philipp gestures behind him to his car. “There’s a new Italian restaurant near where I live now, want to go check it out?”

“Is it a date?” Braden teases.

Philipp grins. “Absolutely.”

They get into the car, but not before Tom and Ovi and, unfortunately, Nicky wolf-whistles at them from across the parking lot. Braden willfully ignores them in favor of closing the door quickly so he can lean across the car and pull Philipp into a kiss. They’d managed to spend a few days together right before the season started in earnest, but it wasn’t nearly enough. Philipp’s lips are soft against his, and Braden closes his eyes as Philipp tangles a hand in his hair.

“Do we have to go get food?” Braden asks. Philipp nods, though, overly solemn.

“It’s tradition now, Braden,” and then he smiles, and Braden melts a little. “Besides, we have plenty of time afterwards.”

Braden frowns. “No, we don’t. I have to get back to the hotel, we have to get ready for the game—” he’s cut off as Philipp presses a finger to his lips.

“You think I can change my whole life with a spell, but I can’t give myself an extra few hours alone with my boyfriend? I thought you knew better than that.” Philipp isn’t necessarily serious, but he doesn’t outright tease much. He’s doing it now, though, his eyes sparking and his mouth quirked to one side. Braden swallows roughly.

“Well, who am I to disagree with that?” he asks. “Let’s go get food, then.”


End file.
